


A Special Case (Or: How Gerard Way Learned to Stop Giving a Shit and Love Dogs)

by corruptedkid



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Shelter, Fluff, M/M, frank iero that wild son of a gun he sure loved dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 21:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corruptedkid/pseuds/corruptedkid
Summary: “I should get a cat,” Gerard mused.Mikey didn’t look up from his phone. “You should not get a cat,” he said.





	A Special Case (Or: How Gerard Way Learned to Stop Giving a Shit and Love Dogs)

**Author's Note:**

> this is the fluffiest thing i've ever written.. ur welcome
> 
> also a little bittersweet tho because i started writing it when sweet pea was still alive :( rest in peas

“I should get a cat,” Gerard mused.

Mikey didn’t look up from his phone. “You should not get a cat,” he said.

Gerard sighed. “But this place is so _empty_ ,” he said, gesturing to his apartment. It barely even felt like a space to live in, it was so barren. He had a bedroom, a kitchen, and an open area that could hypothetically be called a living room, but not much to fill them with. The decor mostly consisted of sketchbook pages and markers scattered all over the floor.

“Exactly,” said Mikey, taking a sip of his coffee. “You can’t even afford a real bed, Gee. How would you take care of a cat?”

Gerard chewed on his lip. “I dunno. I could take more commissions?”

“You don’t have enough time.”

“But it’s…” Gerard sighed again. “It’s lonely here all by myself.”

“Then invite me over more often,” Mikey said with a shrug. 

“No,” Gerard said, then hurriedly backtracked with, “I mean, no offense, but sometimes you just want a little furry thing to keep you company, y’know?” 

“Gerard, you’re allergic to cats.”

“I could get one of the hypoallergenic ones,” Gerard said.

Mikey just looked at him. 

“It could be an emotional support animal?” Gerard said weakly.

Mikey set down his coffee mug. “Look,” he said patiently, “I’m not your keeper. You can do whatever you want; I’m just trying to be realistic here. It’s a big responsibility. You have to feed it, take it to the vet, all that shit - it’s like a baby.” He grimaced. “And honestly, it’s another expense you don’t need.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said gloomily. “I know. Maybe next year, I guess.”

He took his and Mikey’s empty mugs to the sink, purging all thoughts of fur and fluff from his mind.

***

There was nothing wrong with window shopping, Gerard reminded himself as he pulled into the parking lot. Nothing wrong at all. 

The building was small, with block letters above the door that read _Furry Friends Animal Shelter_. As soon as he stepped inside, Gerard could hear dogs barking. It smelled like dogs, too, a strong mix of kibble and dander. Gerard eyed the front desk. There was a jar of dog treats sitting on the counter, but no one behind it.

“Hold on!” came a muffled voice. “Down, boy - I said _down_ , stop it.” 

A door off to the side cracked open. A fluffy little dog’s head immediately popped through the opening. “Oh, no you don’t,” said the voice, and the dog’s head wriggled back out of sight. The door opened wider, and a man slipped out. He was behind the counter in an instant.

“Hi!” he said brightly. “Sorry for the wait, we’re a little understaffed right now. Cats or dogs?” 

Gerard blinked.

There was a little name tag on the man’s shirt that said _Frank_. A patchwork of tattoos peeked out from under his sleeves and reached all the way down to his wrists. Gerard tore his eyes away from them - he didn’t want to be caught staring - but the second he got a good look at Frank’s face, he froze again.

Fuck, he was cute. He was really really cute. 

It took Gerard a second to realize Frank had asked him a question.

“Uh, cats,” he said quickly. 

Frank grimaced. “All right,” he said. “If you’re sure you don’t want to see the dogs, the best friends of man, the most beautiful creatures on this planet, that’s your own decision. I’ll show you the antisocial little furballs.” He got up and rounded the counter. As he passed by Gerard, he winked. “No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” said Gerard, smiling in spite of himself. 

“Good. Cat person with a sense of humor; I can almost respect that.” Frank went over to one of the halls that led further into the shelter, beckoning Gerard to follow. “So, is this your first pet?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Gerard said automatically. Then he froze. “Wait, I’m not actually here to - ”

“Cool!” Frank said enthusiastically. “It’s an adventure, you’re gonna love it.” He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. “Do you have any particular breeds in mind, or?”

Gerard stopped, eyeing the door apprehensively. “I’m actually allergic to cats,” he said. Just looking at it was making his skin itch. 

“Oh! Sorry, my bad.” Frank paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Can you go inside for just a second, or should I bring some of the hypoallergenic ones out to meet you?” 

“I can go inside as long as it’s quick,” Gerard said without thinking.

Frank beamed. “Great!” He ushered Gerard inside, pulling the door closed behind them. Inside were rows of cages, each one with a set of papers clipped to the front. There was a play structure in the back with two tabby cats sitting on the highest perches. 

“Play time’s over, guys,” said Frank, picking up the first cat and carrying it back to its cage. It meowed loudly, but settled back in without much fuss. The second cat was not so cooperative. When Frank tried to pick it up, it immediately wiggled out of his hands and flopped onto the floor. He scooped it up before it could run away. “Behave,” he scolded. “We have a guest.” 

Once the second cat had been caged up, Frank turned to Gerard. “Hypoallergenic, huh?” 

Gerard nodded. He was holding his breath as discreetly as he could, but he could already feel the tickle in his throat. It would only be a matter of time until he started sneezing. 

“Do you want to see some of the others real quick?” Frank asked hopefully. “Just for sightseeing? Like I said, we’re a little understaffed, so they don’t get that much attention. They’re dying for a little love.” Before Gerard could respond, he was moving towards a new cage. He paused, then turned around.

“What are your thoughts on animals that are not conventionally attractive?”

“Conventionally attractive?” Gerard said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Like, the disabled ones, the ugly ones, the old ones. The ones nobody wants.” Frank turned to face Gerard and leaned against the cages, watching him closely. Gerard got the feeling this was an important question.

“I like them,” Gerard said, uncertain. “I mean, they’re just animals. What does it matter if they’ve only got three legs or whatever?”

Frank grinned. Gerard figured he had given the correct answer.

“Okay, forget about the pretty ones, then. They’ll get adopted by someone else. You, my friend, get to see the real beauties.” Frank crossed over to a different cage and opened it up. He reached inside and pulled out a cat that closely resembled the contents of a vacuum cleaner bag. It was a mess of long, matted fur and limbs. Gerard couldn’t tell where its face was. 

“This is Morrissey,” Frank said happily. “He’s the second ugliest pet we’ve got. He’s about the furthest thing from hypoallergenic, but you can admire him from afar, yeah?” Frank brushed some of his fur back, revealing Morrissey’s face. A single scraggly tooth stuck out from his lower lip.

Gerard laughed. “You named a cat after Morrissey?”

Frank’s grin broadened. “That’s not even the best one. We just got a round of labrador puppies - wanna guess their names?”

“What are they?”

“Joey, Dee Dee, Johnny, and Tommy.”

Gerard giggled. “Oh my God, that’s amazing.”

“I know, right? Nobody ever gets it, though.” Frank put Morrissey back in his pen, grinning at Gerard. “You’ve obviously got good taste. Let’s go for three in a row - you like the Misfits?”

Gerard nodded. “They’re a favorite.” Frank did a victory fist pump. “Let me guess,” Gerard said, amused. “You’ve got an animal named after Danzig?”

“A bulldog,” Frank said smugly. “It looks just like him.”

“Are all of the animals named after music references?” Gerard asked. 

“Yeah.” Frank opened up another cage. “It was my idea. My manager thinks there’s too much punk in the mix, though. I have to balance out the genres to keep him happy.” He hefted a one-eyed yellow cat onto his shoulder. “This is Mariah Carey. One time she meowed so high it shattered glass.” 

Mariah Carey let out a mew in response. It made Gerard’s heart melt a little. Her singular eye didn’t detract from her charm at all - honestly, it might have made her even cuter. But she was also terribly fluffy, and before Gerard knew it, he was sneezing into his arm. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry, I should probably show you the ones that won’t kill you - well, the ones that won’t kill you just by existing, I mean. Shit, shit, shit.” Frank hurriedly let Mariah Carey slip out of his arms and back into her cage. “Sorry. That was totally my bad, I just - I get distracted, y’know?” 

“No, it’s fine,” said Gerard, waving his hand. “It’s not your fault I have allergies.”

“Okay, okay. Here we go. Check out this little lady.” Frank unlocked a third cage and hoisted a new cat into his arms. This one was a Siamese, with spindly legs and a crooked jaw. Her buggy eyes were set so far apart they barely looked natural.

“She looks like an alien,” Gerard said out loud.

“That’s what I said!” said Frank, delighted. “Her name’s Ripley. She’s actually pretty damn cool for a cat.” Ripley made a grumpy noise and struggled in Frank’s grip. Frank laughed. ”Okay, forget that last bit. She’s pretty antisocial. But she’s nicer once you get to know her.”

Gerard reached out to scratch behind her ears, and Ripley hissed. 

“Hey!” Frank said, giving her a tiny shake. “Be nice. You’re lucky one of us likes your species; we could just go and play with the dogs instead.”

“You seem really committed to dogs,” said Gerard, amused.

“Considering I work with them all day, I’d say so,” Frank agreed. “I love ‘em. Cats…” He made a face. “I can tolerate them, as long as I can go back to dog-walking afterwards.”

“Oh, come on,” said Gerard, raising his eyebrows. “You _tolerate_ them? Cats are great.”

Ripley meowed, and Frank gave her a dirty look. “Don’t you gang up on me. Dogs are so much better than cats, okay, I don’t even know where to start.” Ripley meowed louder, and in the blink of an eye, she had fought her way out of Frank’s arms and darted to the corner of the room.

Frank sighed. “See, this is what I’m talking about.”

“Cats are smart,” said Gerard. “She knows when you’re talking shit. ”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. You might have won points for your music taste, but you’ll lose them if you’re not careful. I’m not letting a cat person slander me in my own workplace.”

Gerard laughed. “All right, all right. I just don’t see how you can not like her just because she’s a cat.”

“I do like her,” Frank said grudgingly. “She’s an exception.”

Gerard smiled and reached out to scratch Ripley’s ears. She definitely wasn’t conventionally attractive, as Frank had put it, but she was warm and soft, just like a cat should be, and certainly memorable. Gerard could just picture her curled up in his living room. He could do some good studies of her, too; she’d look awesome in pen and ink. 

“So,” Frank prompted. “You wanna take her home?”

Gerard stopped short. “What?”

“You’re looking for a cat, right?” Frank asked. “I’d say she’s a good choice. She’s hypoallergenic, pretty low-maintenance… Loyal, too. Wanna give it a shot?”

Gerard’s eyes widened. He couldn’t. He’d come here to observe, not to adopt. Getting a cat would be irresponsible for the both of them. He’d have to find money to feed it, to feed _himself_ , explain the decision to Mikey -

“You should,” Frank urged him. “I know a bond when I see one. She likes you. That’s the best thing you can ask for.”

Gerard chewed on his lip. He was actually kind of tempted. 

“What happens if I don’t take her?” he asked. “Does she get put down if she stays here too long?”

Frank shook his head. “We’re a no-kill shelter, don’t worry. But I’m sure she’d rather go home with you than stay. It’s hard to find takers for the ugly ones.”

Gerard stroked Ripley’s fur. A purr rumbled deep in her throat. He imagined her wandering around his apartment, getting into his art supplies, tracking paint all over the place. 

It wasn’t such a bad image.

“You know you want to,” Frank wheedled. 

“I do,” Gerard admitted. “I’m just not sure if I can afford it.”

Frank patted Ripley’s back. “Well, just between you and me…” He lowered his voice. “I might be able to waive the adoption fee. Or part of it, at least.”

Gerard’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

“It’s very much against the rules, but what can I say? Rules are meant to be broken.” Frank unclipped the papers from Ripley’s cage. “Does that help her case?”

Gerard stared at her. She stared back.

“You should take her,” Frank said with a smile. “I really think you should.” 

Fuck, Gerard had always been weak to a guy with a killer smile.

“I’ll take her,” he said.

Frank’s face lit up. “Awesome! Be warned, she’s skittish in new environments. And she claws shit up when she’s stressed, so that might happen a couple times. But she’s a good companion.” He shot Gerard a sly look. “Almost as good as a dog.” 

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Say what you want, I’m still sticking with cats.”

“Ah, well. I tried.” Frank lifted Ripley from Gerard’s arms. “Let me get a carrier for her, just a second. Then we can talk paperwork.”

Gerard nodded, then promptly sneezed again.

Frank laughed. “All right, get out of here. You don’t want your allergies to take you out before you can take this one home.” 

Gerard didn’t need to be told twice. He backed out of the room, relishing the fresh air. Or, at least, the fresher air. He didn’t think any place in an animal shelter could be completely free of allergens.

After a minute, Frank came out with a plastic cat carrier. Gerard could see Ripley curled up behind the bars. “Question,” said Frank. “What’s your name?”

“Gerard,” said Gerard. His cheeks heated up a bit. It felt odd that they hadn’t gotten to that, even if there hadn’t really been a reason to. “Gerard Way.”

“Cool! I’m Frank, but you probably noticed that already.” Frank inclined his head to his name tag. “Anyway. You should come back here sometime,” he said as he led Gerard back to the front desk. “It can get kinda boring when you’re by yourself. You can’t really talk to dogs about music, even if they are named after bands. Oh!” He stopped in his tracks. 

“Can I show you the dogs before you go? There’s this one little mutt called Sweet Pea - she’s the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, but oh my God, I love her.” He took on a dreamy expression. “Her tongue’s too big for her mouth, and she has a beard, and she can’t walk in a straight line. I’d take her home right now if my roommate would let me. She’s - oh, shit, I’m rambling. And swearing. Sorry.” He went pink in the face. “See, the thing about working with animals is that you can curse around them without getting fired. Makes for some bad habits.”

“I don’t care,” Gerard assured him. “Trust me, I’m worse.”

“Okay, good,” said Frank, relieved. “Anyway, sorry for talking your ear off. I should let you get home.” 

Home.

Gerard would probably regret this in a week, but for now, he was faced with a cute cat and an even cuter shelter employee. That was enough to convince him he was doing the right thing.

***

Ripley had been hiding in the bathtub for nearly two hours. Gerard was starting to get worried.

He’d gotten a whole assortment of fun things for her to play with, like little balls with bells inside them and sticks with feathers on the end - what kind of cat didn’t like a stick with a feather on the end? - but she hadn’t responded to any of them. As soon as he’d set her down in the living room, she’d ran off to the nearest enclosed space, which happened to be the bathroom.

And now he had a cat in his bathtub.

“Ripley,” he called, shaking her bag of food so she could hear the kibble rattle around. “You hungry, kitty?”

Not even a meow in response. 

Gerard sighed. Maybe she didn’t like him as much as Frank had thought.

He spent a few minutes peeling the sticker off of her new food bowl and trying not to think of the money he’d spent on it. His wallet was going to be stretched thin for a little while, and he probably wouldn’t be eating much in the near future, but it was worth it. Ripley was under his care now; he had to treat her properly as she adjusted to her new home. Besides, he lost himself painting and forgot to eat so often that he probably wouldn’t even notice a difference.

Gerard shook out a bowl of food for her. Even with all the enticing sounds he was sure the food was making, she didn’t come out. Was that normal? He didn’t know. He loved cats - he spent a good deal of his time watching videos of them online or petting them at his friends’ houses - but for all that love, he knew fuck all about actually caring for them.

He ended up wandering into the bathroom with the food bowl. 

Ripley was curled up in the middle of the tub, her skinny tail wrapped around herself. Gerard set the bowl down. He considered climbing in next to her, but figured that would scare her off. Instead, he sat on the edge of the tub and leaned over to pet her. 

Ripley’s ear twitched as his fingers brushed her back. She shifted her paws, then got up and settled down a few inches from where she had originally been sitting. Her tail swished back and forth a few times before wrapping around herself once more.

Gerard frowned. He knew cats weren’t social animals like dogs were, and didn’t express affection in the same way, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong.

***

At the sound of the doorbell, Ripley jumped a foot and bolted into the bathroom. 

“Let me in, it’s cold out here,” said Mikey’s muffled voice. Gerard went to let him inside, then paused, looking back in the direction Ripley had gone. If Mikey saw her, he was in for the lecture of a lifetime.

Well, maybe not a lecture. But a very powerful look of disapproval was guaranteed.

Gerard opened the door. 

Mikey slipped inside without a word. The tip of his nose had gone pink, and his beanie was encrusted with snow. “How’s it going?” he asked. “You finish that piece yet?”

It took Gerard to remember what he was talking about. Sitting in the middle of his living room was an unfinished painting that he’d been slaving at for almost a solid week before Ripley came into his life. He’d planned on finishing it sooner, but then all of a sudden he had a cat to take care of, and he’d gotten sidetracked.

“No, not yet,” he said, but Mikey was already going into the living room.

“Dude,” he said, giving Gerard a look. “Have you worked on this at all?”

“Yes,” Gerard said, frowning. “I’ve worked on it a lot.”

“Since the last time I was here?”

Gerard averted his eyes.

Mikey sighed. “Gee, you gotta actually finish stuff.”

“I know, I know, but sometimes the inspiration leaves -”

“And that’s when you keep going without it. You asked me to keep you on track, so I’m keeping you on track. Do you want me to leave so you can keep working?”

“No! I -”

There was a loud thump from the bathroom. 

“What was that?” Mikey asked.

“Probably nothing,” Gerard said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone. “Maybe something just fell ove - ”

He was interrupted by a loud meow.

And there it was. The look of disapproval. Gerard quailed at Mikey’s expression, searching hopelessly for a way to explain himself. “It was an accident,” he said. 

“You accidentally got a cat,” Mikey said flatly. 

“Well… yeah,” said Gerard.

Mikey continued giving him the look. Gerard winced. “I just went in to look. Just, like, to see what options I’d have when I did have the money for it, y’know? But there was this guy there, and he was talking about how nobody adopts cats like her, and he helped me pay the adoption fee, and -”

“Ge _rard_.”

“And he was so cute, Mikey -”

“Oh, God.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight!” Gerard said defensively. “It was a lapse in judgement, okay?”

“And now you have a cat,” said Mikey.

Gerard nodded. “And now I have a cat.”

“How the hell are you keeping her fed?” Mikey demanded.

As if on cue, Gerard’s stomach growled. 

Mikey sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “What the fuck, Gee. You can’t put an animal’s health above your own. That’s fucked up.”

“I couldn’t just let her starve!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mikey said heavily. “Where is she?”

“The bathroom, I think,” said Gerard. “The doorbell scared her.”

Mikey started in the direction of the bathroom. Gerard grabbed his arm before he could leave. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Gerard, you can’t keep her. You need to bring her back.” 

“But…” Gerard stared at Mikey with wide eyes. “I can’t bring her back now. She’s mine.”

“Gerard -”

“We bonded!”

Mikey put his hands on Gerard’s shoulders. “Gerard,” he said seriously. “You are literally choosing to buy food for this cat instead of for yourself. You are neglecting your basic human needs. If I were doing that, what would you tell me?”

“To stop,” Gerard muttered.

“Exactly. So I need you to stop being a dumbass and please, _please_ take this cat back where it came from.” 

Gerard wilted. Mikey was right. This was what happened when he let his impulses get the best of him - now he would have to walk back into Furry Friends and tell Frank that he wasn’t cut out for cat ownership after all. Frank would be so disappointed.

Gerard was going to die.

“Fine,” he said miserably. “I’ll do it.”

From the bathroom, Ripley meowed once more, as if she understood that her fate had just been signed away.

***

Gerard sat with the cat carrier in his lap, trying to work up the nerve to open the car door. 

Ripley mewed from inside the carrier. “I know,” said Gerard. “I don’t want to return you either.”

But he’d come here for a reason.

Gerard steeled himself and opened the door, stepping out into the parking lot. He clutched the carrier to his chest as he walked, partly in a vain attempt to keep himself and Ripley warm, and partly to keep her close for as long as he could. He pushed the door to the shelter open with his shoulder and stepped inside. The bell jingled over his head. It couldn’t have sounded less festive.

“Hi, welcome to Furry Friends,” said a man behind the front desk. He was very noticeably not Frank. Ripley’s carrier suddenly felt much lighter. “What can I help you with?” The bell jingled again.

“Gerard?” said a familiar voice. Gerard’s heart sank to his feet.

Frank was standing in the doorway with three leashes in hand, a dog pulling at each of them. Upon seeing Gerard, his face lit up. “It is you! And that means - did you bring Ripley back for a visit?” 

Gerard was at a loss for words.

Frank faltered. “You’re not - you’re not returning her, are you?”

“There’s no shame in returns, Frank,” the man behind the counter said. “Sometimes the pet just isn’t a good match.”

“I’m not returning her,” Gerard said instinctively, and then wanted to smack himself.

Frank was visibly relieved. “Oh, good. What’s up, then? Just wanted to swing by?”

“Yeah. You never showed me the dogs, remember? And,” Gerard was hit with a bolt of inspiration, “I have some questions. I’ve, um, never had a cat before, and I don’t really know how they’re supposed to act? But Ripley’s been treating me like she hates me. And I wanna know how to fix that.”

Frank laughed. “I don’t know cats, man, but I bet I can help you out somehow. Let me take care of these guys real quick.” He held up the leashes. “You wanna come with me?”

Gerard nodded. Frank walked the dogs past him, yanking on the leash of the one that tried to jump on Gerard, and headed into one of the halls. 

“So, this is the famous Gerard,” said the man behind the counter as Gerard walked by.

“Shut up,” Frank said without turning around.

Gerard watched as Frank let the dogs off their leashes and scooted them into their cages. The one thing that struck him was how _many_ there were, all jumping at the chain-link walls of their cages and barking. The sound echoed off the walls. 

“Shut up, all of you,” Frank told them. “Barking at Gerard is not going to make him like you.”

Surprisingly, most of them calmed down.

“What are you, the dog whisperer?” Gerard asked with a disbelieving laugh. 

Frank just winked. He waved his hand and began leading Gerard down the row of dogs, pointing them out by name and allowing him to pet the ones that would sit still long enough for him to do so.

“That’s Sid, full name Sid Vicious,” Frank said of a pitbull whose tail was wagging at the speed of light. “And that,” he said, pointing to a boxer, “Is Kennedy. She’s named for the Dead Kennedys, but no one has to know that. My manager thought I was finally laying off the music references, and he’s free to keep on thinking that.” 

Kennedy stood up on her hind legs, throwing her paws onto the fence. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth in a big doggy smile. Gerard patted her head. 

“And this is Priscilla!” said Frank, moving down the line to a tiny chihuahua. “I call her Little Miss Prissy.” He knelt down and poked his fingers through the wall of the cage. Priscilla, a little tan thing with eyes too big for her head, ran over to him and started licking his fingers. Frank smiled down at her. “Yeah, she’s a diva.”

Gerard thought for a minute, then gave up. “Okay, I think this one’s a reference I’m not getting.”

Frank giggled. “Don’t be. She came here before my legacy began; Dewees named her.”

“And here you had me thinking you ran this place all by yourself,” Gerard said with a grin.

“Well, I do a whole hell of a lot,” Frank said, grimacing. “If you know anybody who wants to volunteer, we’d appreciate it. Most days it’s just me, Dewees, and Lauren.”

“At least you love animals, though.” Gerard squatted beside Frank and extended his fingers to Priscilla. She sniffed at them and gave them a tiny lick. “So, do you like small dogs or big dogs better?”

Frank looked at him as if he had just kicked a puppy. “How do you expect me to pick?” he said, scandalized. “I love them all!”

“I dunno, people usually have a preference!” Gerard held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I take it back, I won’t make you choose between your babies.”

“Good. Although, if you really pushed me…” Frank pursed his lips. “I think I’d have to go with small.” He brightened. “Which leads me to my favorite girl of all!” He jumped up and dragged Gerard by his sleeve to the last cage.

Sitting in the center of the cage was a little gremlin of a dog. She had wiry grey fur that had gone white around her mouth, and was currently licking her own ass, making little whuffling sounds as she did so. 

“This is Sweet Pea,” Frank said proudly. “My pride and joy.”

Gerard stared at her. At the sound of Frank’s voice, Sweet Pea had stopped licking herself and fumbled onto her feet, waddling towards him. She was like a fat little sausage with fur. 

And she stank. 

Honestly, Gerard couldn’t see the appeal, but Frank’s taste in dogs was his own business.

“She’s horrible to look after,” Frank was saying, opening the cage and letting Sweet Pea trundle out. “She’s got bladder problems, and she licks everything, but I love her. I mean, look at her. Look at that fucking wizard beard!” He scooped Sweet Pea up. She was supremely uncoordinated. Her legs stuck in every direction until Frank managed to maneuver her into a holdable position and smack a kiss onto her forehead.

“Say hello to Gerard,” he said. He took one of Sweet Pea’s paws in hand and made her wave. Gerard cracked up.

“Are you laughing at my sweet honey child?” Frank asked, affronted. “She’s being polite!”

“Right, of course.” Gerard fought to keep a straight face. “She’s beautiful. I mean, really. Gorgeous.”

“And she knows it, too.” Frank scratched her ears. “Look at those eyes, man. Fuckin’ soulful.”

Gerard giggled. Frank fixed a level stare on him, but after a moment, he started laughing too. “I know,” he said. “I know, she’s disgusting. But you gotta look past that. She’s great once you get to know her. I mean, a really lovely personality.”

They burst out laughing in the same instant. They were joined by a chorus of woofing.

“You really want to adopt her, huh?” Gerard asked once the dogs quieted down. 

“Yeah,” Frank said wistfully. He hoisted Sweet Pea higher in his arms. “I’ve already got three dogs, though. My roommate’d kill me if I came home with another one.”

Gerard’s jaw dropped. “Three? You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Peppers, Mama, and Cujo,” Frank said, smiling. “They’re all little. I kind of want to get another one just so my roommate’ll move out, but I kind of need someone to share the rent.”

“You’re gonna have four dogs,” Gerard said. “That is an absolutely ridiculous amount of dogs.”

“Some call it ridiculous, I call it ideal.” Frank kissed Sweet Pea’s forehead again. Gerard wondered how he could stand being so close to her stink. Maybe he’d built up an immunity. “She’s gonna be part of the family soon, just you wait.”

“I’m happy for you,” said Gerard, trying not to laugh again.

“Sweet Pea and Mama,” Frank said fondly. “The only women I need in my life.”

Gerard could practically hear the record scratch in his mind. He replayed that last sentence. He had to be reading too far into it - there was just no way. A cute pet shop guy was one thing, but a cute _gay_ pet shop guy? He couldn’t be that lucky.

“So, what do you know about cat body language?” he blurted out, changing the subject as fast as he could so he wouldn’t overthink the significance of what Frank had said. It was a joke, that was all. Not an indicator of sexuality and/or availability.

“I’m no expert, but I’m guessing I know more than you do,” said Frank. He opened Sweet Pea’s cage and set her down inside it, latching it up behind her. She sat heavily down and started licking her butt again. “What exactly is the problem with Ripley?”

“Well, I got her all these cool toys and shit, but she isn’t going for any of them,” said Gerard, trying not to let his disappointment show. “She just hides in the bathtub and gets pissy whenever I try to pet her.”

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. You’ve had her for, what, a week now? And she’s still doing this?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Frank nodded again. “You’re smothering her.”

Gerard paused. “What?”

“You’re not giving her enough space.” Frank leaned back against Sweet Pea’s cage. “She gets nervous in new environments, yeah? She likes you, but she needs time to adjust. Being all over her isn’t helping. You should just leave her alone for a while, let her chill.”

“Seriously?” Gerard asked. “Just… don’t do anything at all?”

Frank nodded. “Just act like she isn’t even there.”

Gerard sighed. “I could’ve found this out with a Google search, couldn’t I?”

Frank laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

“I suck at having a cat.”

“Nah. If you want her to pay attention to you, just lie down on the floor for a bit. She’ll probably come to you after a little while. That’s the trick with cats; you have to play hard to get.”

“Okay,” said Gerard. At this point, he was ready to try anything. “I’ll do that, I guess.”

Frank nudged him. “And be sure to come back and tell me how it goes, huh?”

Gerard smiled. “For sure.”

***

Gerard had paint all over his hands and a cat in his bathtub. 

He was sitting on the living room floor, brushing layers of blue across a canvas. He’d decided to work out in the the open so he could keep an eye on Ripley, but after she’d eaten her breakfast, she’d slunk off into the bathroom; he hadn't seen her since. Every once in a while he would hear the little pitter-patter of pawsteps, or an errant mew, but she hadn't shown her face all day. 

He’d stopped paying attention once he got into the zone. Maybe Mikey was right, he thought, smearing his brush across the canvas. Maybe he did just need to fight through the artist’s block. He’d made some good progress; the painting looked a hell of a lot better than it had a few hours ago. Or maybe it was more than a few. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been working. It had been light outside when he started, and now it was dark. That was the best timeframe he could give.

Gerard leaned in closer, angling his grip carefully to blend grey into blue, shading in the colors of the night sky. Just as he touched the brush to the canvas, something bumped into his back. His hand jerked. 

Gerard froze.

He slowly drew his paintbrush away, holding his breath in anticipation of the skid mark that surely awaited, but he’d gotten lucky; the painting was untouched. Ripley bumped into his back again, rubbing her head against his hoodie. 

Gerard twisted around to look at her. “Hey,” he said, surprised. She looked up at him with wide eyes, blinking owlishly, and meowed.

Gerard set his paintbrush down. “Do you need something?” he asked. Ripley meowed again and rubbed up against his side. He lifted his arms, bemused, so she could weave around him. She climbed into his lap and stretched up, sniffing at his face. Her little gray nose hovered in front of his. Gerard raised his eyebrows and let her sniff.

“Are you hungry?” he asked. Ripley made a little huffing noise and slipped off of his lap. She wandered off toward the kitchen, her tail flicking from side to side. 

Gerard followed her, glancing at the microwave as he stepped into the kitchen. He did a double take. The clock read 9:23 - he should've fed her hours ago. “Shit,” he said out loud. “I totally forgot to feed you. Sorry.”

Ripley fixed her pale-eyed stare on him.

Gerard grabbed her food bag and shook out a pile of kibble into her dish. She pounced on it, gobbling down the chunks of cat food like she was in a race to finish.

As she wolfed down her dinner, Gerard knelt down at her side. He slowly reached out and stroked the soft fur between her ears. Ripley paused, lifting her head. She closed her eyes and leaned into Gerard’s hand, allowing him to gently pet her.

Gerard smiled.

***

Gerard ran his hands through his hair, letting out a slow breath. 

Being an adult _sucked_.

Things would be so much simpler if he were a kid again. Then he’d have his family to take care of him, to buy him food and clothes and art supplies, and he wouldn’t have a care in the world. But twenty five felt a little too old to be relying on his parents for financial aid, so now he somehow had to throw enough paint onto a canvas to cover the electric bill. 

Why the hell had he chosen to be an artist, anyway? 

Because he’d had no other choice, Gerard thought morosely as he flicked through the paperwork. If he had to work at a job that didn’t involve art for the rest of his life, it’d suck his soul right out of him. This was what he had to do to be happy. And he wasn’t even that happy. 

That was another thing. Back when he was a kid, he hadn’t understood the meaning of cosmic irony. 

The sight of the numbers on the paper made him wince. He didn’t have that kind of money, especially not after Ripley. Maybe he’d been stupid to adopt her. It wouldn’t be out of character. He’d done a lot of stupid things throughout his life. Moving out of his parents’ basement, choosing art as a career, buying too much Star Wars merch on impulse. He was, on the whole, a phenomenally stupid person.

Gerard dropped the papers on the table and buried his head in his hands. There was no fucking way he could finish enough commissions to cover this by the end of the month. He’d have to ask Mikey for help so they didn’t shut his power off again. The idea made his skin crawl. He hated having to beg for scraps from his baby brother whenever he hit a tight spot. Mikey had better things to do than deal with him.

His drew a shaky breath. Why did he have to be the family fuckup? Why couldn’t he be well-adjusted like everyone else? It felt like they all knew exactly what they were doing, but Gerard was stumbling through the dark. Whenever he had to make a choice, he made the wrong one. Whenever he had the chance to do something worthwhile, he missed the opportunity. He never fucking did anything right. 

The bills stared up at him with their bold black print. Gerard stared back. It felt like a balloon was swelling up inside his chest, pushing his lungs against his ribs, suffocating him. His heart beat in double time. He swept the papers the other side of the table, his hands shaking. 

It was his own fucking fault he was such a failure. Maybe if he’d done something useful with his life, he might even be able to afford anxiety meds. But he hadn’t, so there he was. Sick. Stuck. Struggling to breathe as the weight of the world crushed down on him. 

A spot of cold poked at his leg. Gerard startled and pushed his chair back. No sooner had he moved than Ripley jumped up into his lap, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes. She let out a small mew. 

Gerard forced himself to breathe. “Hi,” he said.

Ripley mewed again and settled into his lap. She wrapped her tail around her legs and looked up at him, expectant.

Gerard lifted a trembling hand to stroke the soft fur beneath her chin. Her eyes slipped shut. 

As he pet her, the pressure slowly began to ease; it was replaced by a soft warmth and the silky-smooth texture of her fur at his fingertips. It was hard to think of anything else. Ripley’s breathing was deep and even, her eyes still closed. She made the picture of quiet contentment.

Ten minutes later, Gerard’s hands weren’t shaking anymore.

“I think you’re magic,” he said, scritching between Ripley’s ears. “Are you a magic cat, Ripley?”

Ripley said nothing. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

***

Frank had been totally right about Ripley. Once Gerard started giving her more independence, she started actually approaching him. It made sense - once she was free to interact on her own terms and not his, she did so much more often.

A routine had begun to emerge: whenever Gerard came back after leaving the apartment, Ripley would be there waiting for him in the living room. She’d meow and bounce toward him as he opened the door, weaving in and out of his legs and purring like a mini monster truck.

It was the exact reason Gerard had wanted a cat in the first place. 

He unlocked the front door and slipped through, glancing around for Ripley. He latched the door behind him. There was no sign of her yet; maybe she was in the tub. She didn't use it as a refuge like she used to, but it was one of her favorite spots to nap in.

Or maybe she was causing trouble. Gerard kicked off his shoes and made his way inside. “Ripley?” he called out. “Did you get into something?”

He listened carefully for any suspicious thumps or crashing sounds. When none came, he forged on into the kitchen, scanning the room to make sure everything was in place. Nothing jumped out at him. The living room looked fine, too, and his bedroom was no more messy than usual. 

Gerard nudged the bathroom door open. “Ripley?”

The tub was empty.

Gerard frowned. He went back into the kitchen to get Ripley’s food bag and started from the beginning, this time shaking it loudly whenever he entered a room. Usually, that would be enough to send her running towards him. He checked beneath the table, in the closet, even in the kitchen cabinets, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Damn it,” he muttered, scanning around his bedroom for the third time. “Where the hell are you?” He rubbed his hands over his arms, shivering a little. It was impossible to keep the apartment’s temperature under control when he couldn’t afford central air. Just last night he’d opened the bedroom window to let some fresh air in, and now it was fucking freezing again.

Gerard’s thoughts slowed to a crawl.

The window.

It was still open. He ran to slam it shut, as if that could somehow change the past, but it was too late; he’d been gone for hours with the damn thing wide open. It was the perfect size for a cat to slip out of. Gerard pressed his hands to the glass, looking this way and that, but Ripley was long gone.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do?

Gerard’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. He left the room and started toward the door, reaching into his pocket for his keys. He only made it a few steps before he broke into a run.

Eight minutes and several blatant traffic violations later, he burst through the doors of the animal shelter. Frank was behind the front desk, typing at his computer. He had barely looked up when Gerard crashed into the counter. “I need your help,” he gasped. “Ripley’s missing.”

Frank jumped to his feet at once. “Hey, Dewees!” he shouted over his shoulder. “I’m leaving, dunno when I’ll be back, watch the dogs!” He was around the counter in a flash, looking concerned. “She’s missing? What the hell happened?” 

“I left the window open,” Gerard said, a little hysterically. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself down, but then it all came spilling out at once: “I left to go get groceries and art supplies and stuff and I was gone all morning and when I came back she wasn’t there and the window was open and oh my God, what if she got hurt? What if she - “

“We’ll find her,” Frank said firmly. “Cujo’s ran away three times now, and he always came back. I’ve got this.”

Gerard clamped his mouth shut. He hardly dared to breathe, lest he flip his shit even more than he already was. After waiting for a second with no further outbursts, he exhaled. “Okay,” he said shakily.

He didn’t know why he was so freaked out over a stupid cat, but the idea of Ripley never coming back made his heart plummet like a stone.

“She’ll be fine,” Frank said, taking Gerard by the arm. “Now, let’s go bring her home.”

***

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Gerard asked, clutching Ripley’s cat bed to his chest. Folded over it were a few blankets and one of his pillows. 

Frank nodded, cranking open a can of wet food. “Ninety percent sure. It works on dogs, so it should be pretty much the same concept, right?” He pulled back the tab and ripped the lid off the can. A fishy smell immediately blossomed into the air. “Cats aren’t nearly as smart as dogs, so it’s a gamble, but I think it’ll work.” He dumped the can’s contents into a plastic tub and stuck it in the microwave. As it started to heat up, the scent got even stronger. Gerard made a face and covered his nose.

“I make food in that, you know,” he said.

Frank giggled. “Sorry. We want the smell to be really strong, though. You’re supposed to put out shit that smells familiar so they can find their way back.” The microwave beeped, and Frank pulled out the container. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He led Gerard outside. They stopped in the patch of snow beside the building that passed for a yard. Frank laid the container of food on the ground and motioned for Gerard to set down the pile of blankets. Gerard dropped them in a heap.

“So, what now?” he asked.

Frank shrugged. “We wait.”

Gerard blinked. “That’s it?”

“Yep. She’ll be back, you just have to be watching.”

Gerard eyed Frank suspiciously. He seemed awfully confident, considering his plan involved basically no action at all. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go look for her or something?”

“You could, but there’s no guarantee you’ll find her,” said Frank. “Trust me, Gerard. This should work.”

Gerard stared down at the pink fluffy cat bed. 

Frank checked his phone. “I have to get back to work,” he said. “You want to come with me? You could say hi to the dogs.”

Gerard bit his lip, not looking away from the mound of blankets and cat food. “But what if - “

“If she comes back, she’ll stick around until you do, too,” Frank promised. “It’s gonna take her a while, dude. Standing here driving yourself crazy isn’t gonna do anything.”

Gerard sighed. “Okay,” he said, and let Frank tug him away to the car.

His thoughts stayed with Ripley for the entire trip. He kept getting flashes of her getting hit by a car or falling out of a tree or getting killed by a coyote. He wasn’t even sure if they had coyotes in Belleville, but every time he pictured her little furry body hanging from a predator’s jaw, it made his stomach churn.

Frank pulled into the parking lot and stopped in front of the shelter. He put a hand on Gerard’s knee. “She’ll be fine,” he said steadily. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

Gerard’s heart was beating fast again. This time, though, it had more to do with Frank’s hand than his cat.

Frank gave him a brief smile, then hopped out of the driver’s seat and shut the door. Gerard took a moment to breathe before unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out. Frank was already at the door. He held it open for Gerard, grinning. “I’ve actually been hoping you’d come by,” he said. “I told you about my roommate, right?”

Gerard tried to think back. “Maybe” he said. Frank guided him through the room and towards the back. “Something about how you can’t get any more dogs?”

“Yeah! Exactly. He doesn’t want me getting too many ‘cause they take up space - it sucks, he’s worse than my ex. God, he was the worst. He actually tried to make me get rid of Mama, can you believe that?” Frank shook his head in disgust. “Fastest breakup ever. Anyway,” Frank’s face brightened, “he finally moved out! So I have more room for dogs now!”

He pushed open the door to the back room, ushering Gerard inside. They were met with a chorus of barking. Gerard opened his mouth to say something, but he was still a little stuck on the word _ex_ \- and, more importantly, the pronoun that had followed it.

He. Frank’s ex was a _he_.

Gerard grinned broadly. He figured it was excusable based on what Frank had just said. “Fuck, that’s awesome! Which one are you taking?”

“As if you need to ask,” Frank scoffed. 

“Sweet Pea?” Gerard guessed. Frank beamed and nodded, bouncing on his toes. 

“Should be any day now. I’ve got money saved up for the adoption fee, but I need to pick up food and stuff.” Frank grabbed Gerard’s arm. “Oh, that reminds me! I was gonna ask for your number so I can tell you when she’s mine. And that way you can let me know when you find Ripley, too!” He thrust his phone into Gerard’s hands. 

Gerard’s cheeks hurt from smiling as he entered his number.

***

Gerard rolled over onto his side for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. No matter how he tossed and turned, sleep wouldn’t come. He’d been careening through the same rollercoaster of emotions all night - half the time he was smiling stupidly into the darkness, thinking about Frank, and the other half he was worrying himself sick over Ripley.

It left him mentally exhausted, but his body had other ideas. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon; that much he knew for certain.

He turned over onto his other side. 

After laying in silence for an eternity, there came a noise like something thumping against glass. Gerard sat bolt upright. He listened hard, not daring to get his hopes up, but there it came again - and this time, it was followed by a muffled meow.

He threw his sheets off and ran for the door. 

The pile of blankets was exactly where he’d left it. Ripley had her front paws in the cat bed, and was nudging at the container of food with her nose. At the side of Gerard, she lifted her head and meowed loudly. Her buggy eyes shone in the darkness.

“Holy shit,” said Gerard, awestruck. Frank had been right after all.

Ripley trotted up to him and headbutted his leg. Gerard squatted down to scratch between her ears. “Let’s get you inside,” he said. “Don’t run away again, you scared me.” Ripley mewed in response. She followed him straight back inside, her tail raised high behind her, and as Gerard shut the door behind them, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. 

His cat was home. All was right with the world.

***

Gerard woke up to an incessant buzzing noise. It took him a second to realize it was his phone. He rolled over and fumbled around for it, finally grabbing it and checking his notifications. The entire screen was filled with messages from Frank.

_dog count up to 4 muthafucka!!!!_

_sweat pea is MINE_

_(yes i meant 2 say sweat. she is a sweaty sweetie)_

_u gotta come over and see her_

_she fits right in. mama loves her already_

Gerard smiled at his phone and typed out a reply. _I’ll be there as soon as I can. Address?_

***

Gerard stood outside the door to Frank’s apartment. Inside, he could hear the patter of paws. He knocked on the door, and there was an explosion of barking. Something thumped into the other side of the door.

“Peppers!” 

The door cracked open, and Frank peeked out. His face split into a wide grin at the sight of Gerard. “Gee! C’mon in, they’re all dying to meet you.”

He opened the door further, and Gerard could see the two dogs he was holding back with his foot. They were both chihuahuas. One had short white fur and was struggling to break through Frank’s legs. The other was a mass of rusty orange fluff, panting up at Gerard and pawing at the floor. 

“This is Peppers,” said Frank, nudging the white one, “And Cujo.” He dragged them both back a foot so Gerard could squeeze inside. As soon as the door was closed, Peppers leaped for Gerard. He was too tiny for Gerard to care. Gerard sat down and let Peppers climb into his lap and sniff at his face. Cujo shoved his nose into Gerard’s crotch. Gerard laughed, pulling Cujo back by his collar. 

“Sorry, he’s a little forward,” Frank said with a grin. He reached down and ruffled Cujo’s fur. “Aren’tcha, boy?”

There came the tap-tap-tap of claws on the floor, and a third dog appeared to jump onto Gerard. This one was orange like Cujo, but with shorter fur. 

“That’s Mama!” said Frank. Mama climbed half on top of Peppers so she could stick her nose in Gerard’s neck. “And -”

A fourth dog with grey fur and a spray of white on her muzzle waddled over to Gerard. 

“Sweet Pea!” said Gerard, delighted. He found himself genuinely pleased to see her, despite the stink that followed her around wherever she went. Maybe it was the fact that she was with Frank. She fit into his apartment perfectly; like a puzzle piece that had been missing for ages before it was finally found. 

“The woman of the hour!” Frank picked her up and twirled her around in the air. “You remember Gerard, don’t you? We like Gerard. He’s the pretty one who’s been coming in to see you.”

“Not just her,” Gerard said without thinking. His brain was a little stuck on the word _pretty_.

“Well, of course not,” Frank amended. “But you can’t deny it, she is the main attraction.”

Gerard ducked his head, unable to meet Frank’s eyes for fear of blushing. “I dunno,” he said. He reached over to scratch behind Sweet Pea’s ears.

“Oh?” Frank asked. Gerard could hear the grin in his voice. “There are other attractions, then?”

“Maybe,” Gerard mumbled. He wasn’t good at this whole flirting thing. It was just so easy to trip over his own words. Frank set Sweet Pea down, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a coy smile. 

“So, I’ve got a hunch,” he said. “You wanna hear it?”

Gerard nodded mutely. 

“I think you came back to see me.”

Gerard could feel himself blushing down to the roots of his hair.

“Don’t lie, you know it’s true,” Frank said, smiling. “You’re a cat person, you didn’t come for the dogs. But that raises the question - why would a guy like you come in to see a guy like me?” He looked up at Gerard from beneath his lashes. 

Gerard looked away, flustered. “What, you mean ‘cause I’m a cat person?” he asked. It was a cop-out, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Not when Frank left him so tongue-tied. 

Frank giggled. He stepped closer to Gerard, hooking his elbows around the back of Gerard’s neck, and - wow, yeah. They were really close now. Gerard swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from Frank’s.

“I was thinking more along the lines of ‘gorgeous artist type’ and ‘animal-loving piece of shit,’” Frank said softly. “I didn’t expect you to come back at first. Didn’t think I was that lucky.”

He made it look so goddamn effortless.

“How could I stay away?” Gerard whispered back.

Frank smiled. “You’d better not.”

“There is the whole cat person thing, though,” Gerard said, raising his eyebrows. “You’re sure you know what you're getting into?”

Frank’s smile grew wider. “What can I say?” he said. “You’re a special case.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to Gerard’s. They were warm and soft, a little taste of heaven, and Gerard melted into him.

Sweet Pea barked. Gerard jumped, and Frank giggled. “She approves,” he said.

Gerard watched her closely. Her mouth was hanging open, her tongue lolling out as she panted. It looked like she was smiling. Her tail thumped against the floor.

“What do you think, Sweets?” Frank asked. “We like Gerard, huh?”

Sweet Pea barked again, jumping up onto her hind legs. Frank laughed. 

Maybe, Gerard thought, dogs weren't so bad after all.


End file.
